Genies
by Ende
Summary: Quatre Winner is an unruly teenager who doesn't respect his family, nor does he wish to be bestowed with his father's business. Will he learn how a young man should behave when he journeys to a country so far from home? Yaoi to come.


Genies: Chapter One

Warnings: AU

Pairings: None, in this chapter. Yaoi, however, will come (3/4).

* * *

Iria Winner sighed as she shut the door to her younger brother's room. Well, he was her _only_ brother, but that was beside the point. There were many words to describe her little brother. Sure, he did pull off the whole blue-eyed, blonde angelic look pretty well. However, he was far from angelic. He was a selfish, arrogant brat; and that was to put it simply.

Iria leaned against the door for a second before heading downstairs. She had tried to talk some sense into him. An hour and a half later, she had had no success. She walked into the kitchen where her father sat drinking tea. She sat down at the table across from him.

After about five minutes of silence, Iria made a sound of disgust.

"Aren't you even going ask about him?"

Mr. Winner glanced up at her from the paperwork that was on the table in front of him.

"What is there to say, Iria? We both know how Quatre is. I've tried to talk with him many-a-time; however, he has never taken my words seriously. What I should be asking is what mayhem is he causing now."

Iria scowled at her father. Sure, Quatre was a little brat, but it was her father's place to talk to him. He never did that anymore.

"I swear, Papa," Iria began. "You care more about your business than your family."

Mr. Winner quirked an eyebrow at her accusation.

"You are very wrong about that, Iria. Quatre is the heir to the Winner Corporation, as we both know. Because of this, I am sending him to continue his schooling in Arabia. There, he'll learn respect away from home: away from where he could come crying to one of us when something doesn't go his way. It's obvious to me that he simply will _not_ obey us. I have no other choice."

"You're just going to send him away?! Is that how you deal with all of your problems, Papa?"

After saying it, Iria was thankful Quatre wasn't around. Like he'd really cared that she had mistakenly called him problem. She surely didn't mean it the way it sounded.

Mr. Winner sighed. "Stop this, Iria," he practically growled. "I do not want you to be disrespectful as Quatre is."

Iria frowned but kept her mouth shut: she didn't even want to know how Quatre was going to react when he was told of the news of his soon-to-be travels.

* * *

Quatre pouted as he looked out the window. It had been nearly an hour since Iria had left. Normally, Father would come up and ask a bunch of stupid questions. Not that Quatre really wanted to hear the 'Responsibility to the Winner Corporation' speech again, but still...he had a sinking feeling that he was actually going to be punished now.

He couldn't help it if no one understood that he didn't want to be tutored by some annoying old hag. Mrs. Simony had been getting on his nerves for some time now. Iria had just happened to walk in when he was 'throwing a tantrum'--as Iria liked to call it.

Quatre didn't even want to own some stupid company when his father died. He hated the fact that he was the heir to the Winner Corporation. Because of this, he had to go through long lessons about business ethics and accounting. Whatever happened to normal school? Well, when you're the son of a rich business man, the word 'normal' and 'schooling'; never go together in the same sentence.

Now Quatre faced the possibility of having to go through even more boring schooling from grumpy old people.

After about fifteen more minutes of sulking, Quatre heard a firm knock on his door. It had to be Father: Iria hated to knock loudly. She felt that it invaded his privacy.

Considering that Quatre had no desire to speak with his father at that moment, he ignored the knock. Mr. Winner, being who he was, went in anyway.

"Quatre?" he asked sternly.

When the blonde continued to stare out the window, Mr. Winner sighed heavily and sat down at his son's desk.

"Quatre? We really need to talk."

Quatre glared over at his father icily, but didn't move from his spot.

"Why? So you can force me to learn useless information about running your stupid business?"

"Winner Corporation happens to be one of the most profitable businesses around, Quatre. It is hardly 'stupid.' As for your schooling, I have discovered a different way to approach this long-term problem."

Although he wouldn't admit it, this caught Quatre's attention. He really didn't have to say anything, his actions did it all for him. He stood up, still glaring at Mr. Winner.

"What do you mean?"

Mr. Winner gave his son a grim look. "You have been very disrespectful, Quatre. No matter what I do, you continue to insist that it will not be good for your future, and the future of Winner Corporation. I'm hoping that by sending you to Arabia to take part in the teachings of the Maganacs you will learn a deeper respect for others."

If he hadn't been so abashed, then Quatre probably would've interrupted right after hearing the word Arabia. He got over this state of disbelief in a matter of seconds, however, and started to be his usual self.

"What do you mean, you're going to send me to Arabia?!" Quatre shrieked.

Mr. Winner winced at the volume level his son was using. "Quiet down, Quatre. Do you really think that the whole neighborhood wants to hear you?"

"I am not going to Arabia!"

"Yes, you are. I feel that it will be for the best. You will be leaving in a week. For now, I want you to apologize to Mrs. Simony. She has tried her hardest to teach you, and you have not been the slightest bit thankful toward her."

"You want me to apologize to that old hag?! She's the one who should be apologizing to me! She's the one who practically bored me to death with her lessons."

"Stop it, Quatre. Don't try to just push all the blame over on other people," Mr. Winner said, standing up and moving towards the door. "Start getting your things together. I've changed my mind. You'll be leaving in four days."

"You're not being fair, Father! How can you send me to Arabia?"

Opening the door, the elder Winner walked out into the hall. Before closing the door, he gave his son one last glance.

"Your future depends on it, Quatre. You might think I'm not being fair, but that's too bad. Nothing is ever fair."

When the door to his room finally clicked shut, Quatre threw his pillow at the door. He certainly didn't want to go to Arabia. But now, he had to go to Mrs. Simony. The stupid old bat; if only he hadn't gone so far as to actually throw the textbook at her.

* * *

"Isn't there something that you'd like to say to Mrs. Simony, Quatre?" Iria asked, sipping her tea.

It took all of his will-power not to glare at the old lady; however, Quatre just smirked. She had the imprint of the corner of his Calculus book on her cheek.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Simony." He said in a believable sort of voice. "I was wrong in taking out my rage on you in such manner. Can you ever forgive me?"

After murmuring something that sounded vaguely like 'smart-ass,' Mrs. Simony nodded her head slightly.

"I suppose so, Quatre. Good luck in Arabia. I really must go though."

Quatre did glare at her this time and received a warning glance from Iria.

Mr. Simony set down her empty cup and said what she hoped would be her final goodbyes to the Winner family. After having to teach Quatre, she was sure she could take on any student.

Quatre never thought that he'd actually cry because of having to say goodbye to his father and Iria. None of his other sisters even cared enough to wish him luck, or to say goodbye.

"Now's not the time to act like you care, Quatre," Mr. Winner said sternly, noticing his son's eyes tearing up a little. "You should have done this months ago."

"But father, I don't want to go," Quatre murmured, his head held low. "I promise-"

"It'll be okay, Quat. Don't do this, okay? It'll just hurt you more," Iria interrupted. She knew her baby brother could put on a good act, however this actually looked genuine

Giving his father one last pout, Quatre picked up the bag he was carrying with him for the plane ride.

"We'll miss you, Quat. Really," Iria said, smiling brightly.

Quatre, however, didn't see her smile that soon faded into a disheartened look, as he boarded his private plane. He had no idea what lay in store for him.

* * *

-End Chapter 1-

Feel free to review. Any advice, comments, or how you would like the story to advance would be appreciated!


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